


From Blank to Bronze

by 70procent



Series: Mark'd [1]
Category: Real Person Fiction, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dirty Talk, F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/70procent/pseuds/70procent
Summary: Mark has always been blank.





	From Blank to Bronze

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. And I promised myself that Septiplier isn't real. Still isn't.

Sweat was dripping from his brow and his hands made a ruckus out of the sheets. Under him a girl with brown hair and deep choclate eyes was moaning in time with his thrusts, clearly enjoying herself a lot more than Mark. He nearly slipped on her bright blue bed and had to slow down to readjust himself.  
“Mm... yes,” she was groaning as he spread her thighs wider to get a better angle. “Please.”

Mark snapped his hips and he could feel her convulse as he hit her sweet spot. Her palms and nails trying to rip his back apart judging by the strength she held on to him. Jesus, he needed her to come before his poor body gave up. He rose from his position so he could look down on her, holding her legs and be out of the way of those bloodstained nails. She wailed and started to arch her back to help herself to an orgasm but inconsequently made it harder for Mark to actually stay inside her.

“You like that, baby?” Mark asked and trust a bit too akwardly for his own taste but she seemed to not care as she nodded and let out another moan. “Do I fill you up? Want me to give you what you want?”

Mark's voice was husky and low from disuse. He hadn't needed to talk much on this date as the woman, Juliana, couldn't keep her trap shut. In the end his need for some relief had won over the less than satisfactory date. 

Juliana screamed her answer and Mark bent back over her slid his arms around her to imobilze her body as he forcefully started to slam into her, chasing an orgasm and also trying to give one. But his goal seemed a little too far away as she broke into a high pitched scree and tightened up. Mark couldn't think about anything else than that he wasn't into it as much as he had hoped tonight. His orgasm slipping from him and the attraction to the body beneath vanishing in a moment as he looked down at her. He was everything Mark had been attracted to. The flowing hair, her gorgeous eyes and her funny witt. Her body was absolutely sculpted to perfection but his body didn't seem to cooperate with him on these opinions. He craved something, someone, else.

When she calmed down and Mark pulled out they laid together side by side. Her hand slowly taking hold of his. Mark sighted, another night without release and another night of coming home feeling empty, wrong and even more horny. For five days now he had had this itch to satisfy something but he didn't know what. 

He sat up. She still laid there looking at him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and let her hand go. He couldn't meet her gaze without feeling that he had made some major mistake. With a shaking hand he wiped the sweat of his brow.

“Who is he?” She asked quietly with round fearful eyes. Such a strange question with such a strange face.

“Who is who?”

“Your name...” She turned over to her stomach, exposing her back to the dry air. “The name on you.”

Mark swallowed. “I don't have a name. I haven't met anyone that have had their name etched into my skin.”

It was true, he was blank without a name. He had seen Julianas name, Fredrik Anthony whomever that was, lining her foot in gold. Dead. Her soulmate her love of her life dead somewhere. Mark didn't want to ask. It may have been horrible. But as soon as this Fredrik had died her name would have turned from that beautiful black bronze to a steely gold. A reminder that will never leave. A reminder hat they would not be together anymore in this life. 

Once it must have been a joyful name, that didn't mean something sad but true happiness. Something that Mark never would experience. Most got their names around fifteen, often without meating the person most important to them. Those lucky fuckers. Mark had just turned 28.

“So am I not getting in trouble with Séan McLoughlin then?”

Mark snorted. So this was his fate, some fangirl trying to get into famous people's pants. Juliana had hid it well. Usually they couldn't keep it together for the first five minutes.

“No.”

“You sure? Because if he is a scary fucker I don't want to be here when you tell him.”

“What's wrong with you? Jack isn't going to know about this,” Mark said and turned around, watching her draw her eyebrows to a disbelieving pose. Her mouth was set and her eyes searched his face.

“Jack?” She asked slowly. “I said Séan...”

“I heard you. I won't be telling him. He has nothing to do with this,” Mark answered courtly and got up to search for his underwear.

She huffed and sat up.

“So you are just going to leave him then? What has he done to deserve such coldness?”

Mark pulled on a sock.

“He haven't done nothing. Just because you might think this Septiplier thing is cute doesn't mean it's real.” 

Juliana collected the duvet in her arms as she curled up on the bed, and threw the other sock to him.

“Mark.I have no fucking idea what you are talkig about, but don't you think that your soulmate should know you've been having sex with other people? Or have I misjudged you so badly and you are really a cold, heartless guy? Oh, god, if I had known about him I wouldn't have had sex with you!”

Mark stopped and sighed. “Listen, Juliana. I don't think this is funny. Jack is not my boyfrie-”

“I am not talking about a fucking Jack! I am talking about Séan! Séan! The fucking name on your arm! That Séan! Or are you completely oblivious to that name! Have you been dropped on your head?!”

The world halted, only the rush of blood through Mark's veins and the heavy breathing of Juliana could be heard. The moon covered by clouds stopped moving and the cars outside made a sudden stop. Name on his arm? Name on his arm? He's- he's blank. Mark doesn't have a name. He is blank.

With tremendous effort he turned his arm over. And there, on the back of his bicep was bronzed letters. He had a name. He had a name! And jesus fuck. Septiplier is fucking real...


End file.
